


the simplest solutions are often the best

by sheisraging



Series: little windows [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Dogs, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Oral Sex, Pets, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 21:22:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6724036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheisraging/pseuds/sheisraging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Your fathers did not tell me you were a morning dog,” Natasha mutters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the simplest solutions are often the best

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to [Ignited](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ignited/pseuds/ignited) for the beta read!

Bucky’s at the stove finishing up with breakfast when Steve comes padding into the kitchen, mid-yawn. He drags his hands through his hair and down his face, then gives himself a shake that makes Bucky chuckle.

Steve leans in close, opens his mouth wide against Bucky’s bare shoulder, and blows a raspberry.

“Morning,” Bucky says when Steve presses his bare chest to Bucky’s back and leans heavily against him.

Steve dips his head forward to press a quick peck to the side of Bucky’s mouth and another just in front of his ear. “Morning,” he breathes, then pulls away after one more kiss.

“And good morning, my Pretty Princess,” Steve coos, dropping down to a crouch and wrapping his arms around Roscoe while she dances in place.

Bucky rolls his eyes. He flips the last pancake out of the pan and turns off the stove.

“Here, lemme—” Steve gets back to his feet, grabs the two mugs of coffee Bucky had set out on the counter and brings them to the kitchen table. Together, they carry the plates of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and toast over, then settle down in their regular chairs.

“You really outdid yourself this morning,” Steve observes, scooping eggs onto his plate.

Bucky shrugs. “Felt like a big breakfast kind of day.”

They eat for a while in comfortable silence.

Bucky pats Roscoe’s head when she wanders over, props it up on his thigh and gives off a small, pitiful whine. He slants his eyes toward Steve and then quickly slips her half a strip of bacon.

“She’s gonna spend all night farting if you keep doing that,” Steve mutters, not looking up from his plate.

Bucky shrugs. “You don’t hear me complaining when you spend all night farting.”

“I do, actually,” Steve sips his coffee, lowers his mug and puts on the most serious face he can muster. “And I find it offensive.”

Luckily, Steve’s reflexes are fast enough to catch the pancake Bucky flings at him two seconds later. There’s nothing he can do about the trajectory of the syrup it’s doused in, however. He lets the pancake fall to the floor, grimacing as Roscoe immediately snatches and eats it in less than two bites.

“Eeugh,” Steve laments, holding a syrup coated hand away from himself. He watches as Roscoe begins a thorough tongue-bathing of the floor around her.

Bucky curls both lips into his mouth in an attempt to suppress his laughter, turning his attention back to his plate. He slices into his remaining pancake while Steve stares at him, one hand still held in the air.

Steve closes his eyes, exhaling heavily through his nose as a line of syrup trickles down his cheek. Bucky makes the mistake of looking up and can’t help the loud series of snorts that escape him. Within seconds, he's shaking with laughter, one hand cupped over his mouth as he struggles to keep the half chewed pancake from sputtering out.

At the sight of Bucky, now doubled over and trying to swallow a mouthful of food through fits of laughter, Steve has to fight off a grin. He reaches across to the plate they’ve been sharing bacon from, scooping up the seven remaining strips in his hand and leaning back in his seat as he chomps down on the first one.

Bucky straightens up and points, still chewing and hiccuping little bursts of laughter.

Steve cocks an eyebrow and gives a slight shrug, biting into the second strip with a smirk.

Once he manages to gulp down his food, Bucky looks toward the stove, to the empty plate, and finally, back up at Steve.

“Okay,” Bucky sighs, lifting his plate toward Steve. “Come on, not funny.”

Steve tilts his head, bringing the third strip to his mouth. “What’s not funny, Buck?” he asks, folding the entire third bacon strip into his mouth at once.

“Rogers.”

Steve scrapes the fourth strip through the smudge of syrup on his cheek and then folds it into his mouth, not breaking eye contact with Bucky.

“I had half a piece and there’s none left,” Bucky states, holding his plate out. “Last three, hand ‘em over.”

“Probably should’ve thought about that before you gave half a strip to the dog, huh?” Steve asks with his mouth full.

“Don’t make me take it from you,” Bucky warns.

Steve lifts an eyebrow and folds the fifth piece into his mouth as Bucky lowers his plate.

The crash of Bucky tackling Steve to the floor sends Roscoe scrambling out of the kitchen and into the bedroom to hide.

“Give it,” Bucky grits out, pinning Steve and straddling his hips.

Steve snorts out a laugh, still chewing, and shakes his head. He flings his left arm up over his head, holding the two remaining bacon strips just out of Bucky’s reach.

“Gonna kick your bacon thieving ass,” Bucky mutters, fending off a tickle attack with one hand and making a grab for the bacon with the other.

They’re both laughing by the time Steve manages to lift one of his thighs and tilt Bucky over. While Bucky scrambles to get back into the tussle, Steve uses the few seconds of freedom to shove the bacon into his briefs.

Bucky drops heavily, knees straddled over Steve’s thighs, and stares. Steve folds his arms behind his head and leans back with a grin.

“Really?” Bucky says, wrinkling his nose and nodding at Steve’s crotch.

Steve shrugs, but his grin only gets wider.

Bucky braces his hands against his thighs. “This my payback for being a dick?”

Steve huffs, nudging Bucky’s ass so his body wavers slightly, then licks his lips before answering. “You are what you eat, Buck.”

With an easy smile, Bucky pulls up the elastic waistband of Steve’s briefs, dips his fingers in and tosses the bacon strips across the floor.

“Well,” Bucky murmurs, sliding down to lay between Steve’s thighs. “I am a dick.”

Steve thumps his head back against the tile and laughs, lifting his hips as Bucky tugs his briefs down. Bucky closes his lips around the head of Steve’s cock, tongue making slow circles around the tip. Steve’s laughter fades to a soft chuckle. He closes his eyes, reaching down to tangle his hands in Bucky’s hair.

“You’re also an asshole,” Steve hums.

The joke makes Bucky snort, despite having a mouthful of Steve’s dick. He drags his mouth back to the tip, pulling off and letting the head rest against his bottom lip.

Steve folds an arm behind his head and looks down at Bucky with slow eyes and a lazy smile.

“Ordering off menu?” Bucky grins, darting his tongue out and chasing it with a line of wet kisses up Steve’s shaft.

Steve arches back and groans. “Thought I’d try the Chef’s Special.”

“Is it weird that so much of our sex talk revolves around food?” Bucky ponders, then takes Steve back into his mouth.

Steve closes his eyes and shakes his head. “No, s’good. Food’s good.”

\---

“We knew this was a possibility,” Steve says quietly.

“I know,” Bucky frowns, passing his hand over Roscoe’s back. “I just didn’t think it would happen so soon.”

“We can’t predict these things, Buck, you know that.”

Bucky sighs and rubs at his temples. “I can’t believe I never thought of a fucking back up plan. I always have a fucking back up plan.”

“Hey,” Steve leans in and gives Bucky’s shoulder a squeeze. “You can’t blame yourself. I should have been looking for something.”

"You guys are aware that there are several hundred places in and around the city that specialize in boarding dogs, right? Some of them even have the word 'Hotel' in their name," Sam says and barely conceals his grin.

Bucky glares at him.

"We haven't had time to look into any of them," Steve shrugs. “I haven’t read reviews or gone to check any out to—”

"Make sure they won't lock her in a cage for five days straight," Bucky grumbles.

"That's a bleak outlook, man. I'm sure some of those five-star rated boutique shops they got will treat her just fine,” Sam offers.

"Or you can just ask Romanov to watch her," Tony snarks, entering the common room in mid-conversation.

Steve’s head snaps up. “What— isn't Nat still in South America?"

Tony shakes his head and makes a noise as he sips from a bottle of water. "Just came in. Annnnd,” he turns his head toward the doorway and raises his voice. “ _Grounded_ for this next mission."

"I'm  _not_  grounded," Natasha's agitated voice comes from the hall.

They all turn to face the doorway, but it's a few seconds longer before Natasha appears. She is limping, her left foot encased in a soft boot, right arm wrapped gingerly around her rib cage.

"Right," Tony mutters. "You're in peak field condition."

"Jesus, Nat,” Steve breathes, rising from the sofa and heading toward her.

Natasha quickly holds up her hand and grits her teeth through the pain of it. “Steve, I’m fine. Sit."

Steve exhales through his nose and sits back down on the edge of the sofa cushion. His eyes remain glued to Natasha as she hobbles over to the adjacent sofa.

" _Should let him help before he passes out,_ ” Bucky mutters in Russian.

" _I don't need help, I'm fine,_ ” Natasha responds in kind, lowering herself into the corner seat beside Sam. “ _He should be used to that answer._ "

Bucky rolls his eyes, opening his mouth to respond, but Tony beats him to the punch, striding over and holding up his hands.

"Now, now children. No secrets from the class," he chides.

"I was just reiterating the fact that there's no reason for me to sit out the next mission,” Natasha says with a tight smile.

"Two broken ribs and a busted ankle, Romanov, what are we going to do? Stealthily airlift you in and out of the building?” Tony argues. “I know Fury missions are your favorite missions, but they’re not worth losing the use of a limb.”

"I can run the comms from the jet,” Natasha shrugs.

"And so can Jarvis, while your bones get reacquainted. Besides,” Tony waves his water bottle toward Steve and Bucky. “Our favorite supercouple needs a babysitter.”

Natasha lifts an eyebrow and turns to Bucky. “What happened to the girl from the beach?”

“Out of town,” Bucky answers miserably.

“Don’t they have places that specialize in—”

“Locking their precious princess in a cage for five days straight? Yeah, Wilson already tried that route. No go,” Tony pauses at the stricken look on both Steve and Bucky’s faces. “What, you said it, not me.”

“I’m not sure if you think you’re helping or not, but I’m just gonna tell you: you’re not,” Sam says.

Tony throws up his hands and goes to refresh his water bottle. Everyone else falls quiet for a bit. Steve digs his phone out of his pocket and starts to pull up dog kennels and boarders. He leans toward Bucky so they can both look over stars and reviews as he scrolls. Sam drops his head back on the sofa and closes his eyes. Natasha observes the people around her. She flexes her foot slightly and manages to cover the wince of pain.

“No, look – it says they did a poor clip job and the dog’s paws were bleeding, Steve. We can’t bring her there,” Bucky mutters.

“That review is three years old, Buck. They might have new employees now. The other reviews are good, look.”

Bucky scowls and takes the phone. “No, this one says their dog seems unhappy when they go there.”

Steve makes a face. “I missed that one. Okay, we’ll keep looking,” he sighs and continues scrolling.

Sam lifts his head and looks over at Natasha. “You could put an end to this, you do realize.”

“This one only has two and a half stars,” Steve mumbles. Bucky nods in agreement, chewing his lip.

Natasha rolls her eyes and drops her head back for a moment before looking back over. “Stop. Both of you, please.”

Steve lowers the phone as he and Bucky both turn their attention to Natasha.

“I can’t watch you both be this pathetic at the same time. I’ll do it, she can stay with me.” 

“Great,” Tony exclaims, clapping his hands together as he walks back over.

“Settled then. I’ll have someone from downstairs pick-up whatever supplies you need to keep the dog here… Does she shed? She probably sheds. Which means—” he wags a finger at Steve and Bucky, “—we should probably talk before you two decide that ‘Assemble’ means ‘Assemble Plus Dog’ next time. I should have the floors treated before— not sure there’s time—”

“Nat, are you sure you’re okay with this?” Steve asks quietly while Tony continues to rattle off his list.

Natasha smirks. “You want me to come on the mission instead?”

“Absolutely not,” Steve grins. “But I also don’t want you to pet-sit our dog if you don’t want to. You have no obligation to do this for us.”

Bucky nods. “I’m sure we can find something,” he says, half-heartedly waving Steve’s phone in his hand.

“No,” Natasha shakes her head. “It’s fine. Don’t tell him,” she says, tilting her head back toward Tony. “But I can use the re-coop time.”

Steve smiles. “Secret’s safe with us.”

“I won’t be staying here, though,” Natasha says, loud enough for Tony to hear.

Tony pauses mid-stride in his list-making pace and looks at her. “What do you mean? Where else would you stay? You live here.”

Natasha shrugs. “I have… another place.”

“ANOTHER Pla— Is  _nothing_  sacred anymore? Are you all secretly moving out and not telling me? Was this some kind of group conspiracy? Who else knew?”

Natasha closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “Tony, shut up.”

Tony snaps his mouth shut and looks around the room. Steve, Bucky, and Sam say nothing, each of them biting or pursing their lips and awkwardly looking anywhere but Tony’s face.

Natasha sits forward, heaving herself off the sofa. “Rogers, so help me, if you move, I will break  _your_  ankle.”

Steve, who’s halfway to standing, lowers himself back to his seat and scrubs his hands over his face.

“Bring the dog over after ten. I’ll text you the address,” Natasha instructs as she limps from the room.

Tony waits until she’s gone before rounding on them. “Did you three know—”

“No!” Natasha yells from the hallway. “Jesus, Stark, I’m not even at the elevator yet. Leave them alone.”

Tony snaps his mouth shut and points his finger around at Sam, Bucky, and Steve. Each of them shrug.

“I don’t live here. I don’t know what you all do in your own time,” Sam says, sparing a glance at Steve and Bucky. “Mostly.”

Bucky chuckles while Steve sighs and shakes his head.

“What’s that? What do you know?” Tony asks. “I’m feeling left out, guys.”

“Stark, believe me, this is nothing you want to be in on. I wish I didn’t know.”

Tony eyes Steve and Bucky for a moment and then shakes his head, too.

\---

Natasha texts them an address that leads to a small tudor house on a quiet, residential street in Queens.

Steve pulls into the driveway and leans forward, skeptically eyeballing the front door.

“You look like you expect her to come out with guns blazing,” Bucky says, unlatching his seatbelt and opening his door.

Steve kills the ignition and follows suit, letting Roscoe out from the back while Bucky unloads the bags of dog supplies they’ve brought over.

They pause at the front of the car and look up at the house, then eye each other dubiously.

“It’s nice,” Steve shrugs.

Bucky nods. “I mean, it’s no shambling City Island shack, that’s for sure.”

“Hey, that’s my home you’re talkin’ about.”

Bucky grins, leaning in for a kiss, but Roscoe suddenly goes barreling forward, taking Steve and the leash wrapped around his wrist with her.

“Sorry about that,” Natasha says from the porch steps. “I would have been happy to let you make out in my driveway all night, but Tony’s been texting me for the past twenty minutes to ask how long it’ll take for you two to get back to the Tower for the briefing.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and follows Steve into the house, planting a kiss on Natasha’s cheek as he passes.

\---

“So you saw Nat’s house, huh?” Clint asks casually. He looks up from sorting his arrows and smiles. “It’s kinda nice, right?”

Bucky lifts an eyebrow at Steve and leans forward, elbow resting on his knee. “Yeah, Barton. Sure is.”

Bucky waits until Clint nods and turns back to his task before nudging Steve in the ribs and nodding in Clint’s direction. Steve rolls his eyes but turns a bit in his seat.

“So uh, you spend a lot of time out there?” Steve asks.

Clint freezes for half a second and then immediately resumes examining the arrow in his hand. To the average eye, it would have been undetectable, but Bucky bites down on the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning. He’s in for twenty that says he can get Barton to call Romanov his “girlfriend” and he has no intention of losing that bet.

“It’s not that long of a ride,” Bucky adds. “Bet you can make it there from Brooklyn real quick.”

“I don’t—” Clint shakes his head. “I helped her move some furniture and stuff, that’s all.”

“Whoa, whoa,” Tony wanders over and interrupts before Bucky can continue. “What are we talking about? Why is Barton commuting from Brooklyn?”

Clint drops his head and sighs. “Because that’s where my apartment is, Tony. You know that.”

Tony’s mouth gapes open for a second while he looks from Bucky and Steve over to Clint. “Et tu, Barton?”

“Tony, I’ve always had—”

“WILSON?” Tony yells out. “Where is he?”

“Tony—” Steve starts, pausing when he feels his phone start vibrating in his pocket.

“He in the can or something? I’m trying to offer the man a luxury apartment,” Tony says pointedly. “There have to be some grateful people left on this team. WILSON!”

Steve shakes his head and swipes at his phone to see a text from Sam.

 **Sam:**   _I’m gonna stay real low and y’all just tell him I jumped out the back of the plane_

Steve bites back a smirk and texts back.

 **Steve:**   _Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he arranges for the movers to come to your place before we get back_.

**Sam:** _You know your adorable puppy-dog eye shit only works on Barnes. I will kick your ass_

**Steve:** _Aww, Sam, you really think I have puppy-dog eyes?_

Steve can’t help but chuckle when Sam’s only response is a middle finger emoji.

\---

Natasha sets her tea down on the table beside the sofa and gently maneuvers herself into the corner seat. She props her leg up and scoots down a bit to reach for the book she’s left open on the coffee table.

Roaming around sniffing everything, Roscoe wanders slowly from one room to the next. Natasha eyes her curiously as she circles the sofa and comes to a pause at the opposite end, standing in front of the empty cushion at Natasha’s feet.

She looks from Natasha to the cushion and back, head cocked just slightly as if waiting for an invitation. Natasha frowns, brows creasing together as she and Roscoe stare at each other. Roscoe finally lets out a frustrated sounding woof and leaps up onto the sofa. She stands in place for a few seconds, looking at Natasha still. She then spins around twice before settling down with her head between Natasha’s feet.

“We’re going to have to work on your manners,” Natasha says quietly, reaching back for her tea.

Roscoe nudges her nose at Natasha’s right foot, sniffing for a few seconds and then licking her toes.

\---

Steve’s frowning at his phone when Bucky ducks out the side door of the building Steve’s leaning against and sets a brisk pace. Steve immediately pushes away from the wall and keeps up, eyes straight ahead.

“It’s set?” Steve asks.

Bucky nods slightly. “Barton’s clear. Package is in play.” He steals a glance at Steve.

“Why the face?” he asks conversationally, though he’s carefully surveilling the area around them.

“I texted Nat to see how things were going,” Steve says, and tilts his chin. “Straight ahead and to the right.”

Bucky nods and holds out his hand. “Lemme see.”

Steve hands over his phone without breaking his stride. Up ahead of them, Sam crosses the street and enters a nondescript building.

Bucky snorts and passes Steve back his phone as they approach the building.

“What’s it say?” Steve asks, following Bucky through the door.

“You told her to say hello to the dog,” Bucky says as they climb the stairs.

Steve sighs. “I was kidding.”

Bucky turns around and raises an eyebrow at him.

“Kind of.”

“She’s been saying ‘woof woof’ to you in Russian over and over again.”

Steve sighs and tucks the phone into his back pocket.

“What is this, casual Friday?” Tony asks when they hit the second landing.

“You know, not all of us hit a button and go presto, bingo, iron suit,” Sam calls out from somewhere in the room behind them.

“We’re a go,” Bucky says, striding past Tony and over to where he’s stowed his gear.

“Barton’s already in position,” Steve adds. “He’ll meet us tomorrow at the rendezvous point with Hill.”

Tony nods and pulls out his phone. “I’ll let you three finish your beauty regimens.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “Barnes, I got a fifty that says you can knock him out before he can get one gauntlet on his hand.”

Bucky chuckles around the hair tie he’s holding between his teeth.

\---

Natasha wakes slowly, curving her stomach away from the bed and pressing her face against the mattress. She yawns against the sheets, and turns over onto her back to find herself faced with a cold, wet nose.

Roscoe growls softly, dropping to her haunches as her tail thumps against Natasha’s calf.

With a tired frown, Natasha props herself up on her elbows.

“Why are we awake?” she mumbles, pressing a tentative hand to her rib cage and wincing at the discomfort.

Roscoe creeps slightly closer again, nudging at Natasha’s hand with her nose.

“I guess you need to go outside.”

At the word ‘outside,’ Roscoe goes flying off the bed, landing almost at the bedroom door. She spins excitedly in place, panting and galloping while Natasha throws the blanket to the side and gingerly gets to her feet.

Roscoe watches patiently from the doorway, head tilted to one side. Natasha rolls her ankle, then carefully shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

After a few more seconds, Roscoe lets out a pitiful whine.

“Okay, okay,” she sighs. “I need you to understand that morning runs are not going to happen here.”

Roscoe turns and runs off through the house, while Natasha pulls on a pair of sweatpants and tugs her hair into a ponytail. She shuffles into the master bathroom, pausing in front of the mirror to lift her tank top and examine the bruising on her ribs.

“You get one more day,” she says quietly.

She’s brushing her teeth when Roscoe comes scampering back into the room. Roscoe sits outside the door and spinning in circles every few seconds with a small whine.

“Your fathers did not tell me you were a morning dog,” Natasha mutters. 

\---

“I’m just saying I like the blue one,” Bucky says, tugging the brim of his cap down lower. “Makes you look like less of a moving target.”

Steve rolls his eyes. “Last time I wore it, you spent half the fight staring at my ass.”

Bucky grins as he turns a corner. “Well, it  _is_  more form-fitting.”

Steve snorts into his coffee cup. “How’s it looking out there?”

“Perimeter’s clear. No movement,” Bucky reports. “I’m heading back.”

“Better hurry before I eat your breakfast,” Steve replies.

“I’m not gonna suck your dick every time you eat all the bacon, Rogers,” Bucky answers.

“And  _that_  is why headsets are your friends,” Sam mutters while he pours himself a second cup of coffee.

Tony looks up from his tablet with a furrowed brow. “How is that a punishment? Shouldn’t you get spanked or something?”

Sam lowers his mug and closes his eyes. “Stark, I beg you. It’s not even seven in the morning.”

“What,” Tony asks. “It’s a legitimate question. That seems like a reward. I mean,” he turns to Steve. “Unless Barnes gives bad head.”

“I give excellent head,” Bucky informs, having quietly entered the room a few seconds earlier. “Why are we having this discussion?”

“‘Cause of the bacon,” Steve says, shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “Didn’t have my headset on.”

Bucky nods and digs his phone out of his pocket, sliding it across the counter toward Steve.

“Something wrong?” Steve asks.

Bucky shakes his head. “Text from Nat.”

Steve frowns, tapping until he hits Bucky’s text conversation with Natasha. Steve sighs. “Now she’s just being obnoxious.”

Bucky chuckles.

“What’s going on?” Sam asks.

Steve holds the phone up so Sam can see the text conversation.

 **Bucky:**   _Hey, just checking in. You doing okay? She all walked and fed?_

“Is that your dog in a red wig?” Sam asks, biting back a grin at the image Natasha had sent in response.

“That it is,” Bucky nods.

Sam bits his cheek to keep from laughing. “Annnd, she’s having lunch at a cafe?”

“Yep.”

“The dress is classy,” Sam offers, and finally bursts into a fit of laughter.

Bucky sighs, taking his phone back from Steve and tucking it into his pocket.

“She get back to you at all?” Bucky asks, accepting the plate Steve slides his way.

“Oh, sure,” Steve nods and hands his phone to Bucky. “I asked if she was making sure to keep the water dish full.”

Bucky covers his mouth to keep from spitting out his food when he sees the photo. He puts the phone down and focuses on chewing and swallowing and then takes a deep breath.

“You could have warned me, asshole,” Bucky laughs and throws a sausage link at Steve’s head.

Steve catches the sausage and bites into it. “Not nearly as much fun.”

Bucky picks up the phone as Sam and Tony lean over to look at the photo.

“There’s no way Romanov owns a pink one-piece like that,” Tony says. “She’s officially buying clothing for your dog. Though… are those my sunglasses?”

“She looks cute,” Sam laughs.

“You’re saying that ‘cause you know this was your idea,” Steve says, taking his phone back.

“Better this than a stranger,” Sam reasons.

“Point,” Bucky agrees and digs back into his breakfast.

Tony watches Bucky and Steve quietly for a few seconds.

“What?” Bucky finally asks, mouth full of food.

“We never settled the whole Blow Job as Punishment for Bacon Thieving issue.”

“Why is this something you need settled?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah,” Sam adds, tossing his dishes into the sink. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure I already know more about the sex lives of super soldiers than I need to.”

“Aww, what’s the matter Wilson?” Tony coos. “Not gettin’ any?”

Sam levels Tony with a glare.

“You want me to set you up? Banner and I have had some major breakthroughs with robotics—”

“Barnes, where are we on that fifty?” Sam asks.

“Still mulling it over,” Bucky chuckles.

Steve carries his and Bucky’s dishes over to the sink. “All right, guys. We need to have eyes on target in less than an hour. We only get one shot at the pick-up.”

“Really?” Tony calls as they start clearing the room. “You’re not gonna explain it to me?”

Bucky leans back around the corner and smirks. “Maybe I’ll send you a video debrief.”

“Well that’s just excessive,” Tony mutters to himself.

Bucky closes the door to the room they’ve been camping out in and starts unlacing his boots.

“He suggested you spank me instead,” Steve says, nonchalant as he sets his gear out on the bed.

Bucky pauses and looks up. He gives Steve a lasting once-over, and smirks. “Yeah?”

Steve shakes his head, smiling broadly. He lifts his eyebrows, tugs his shirt up over his head and tosses it at Bucky’s face.

\---

“Okay,” Natasha says after she kills the engine. “We’re home.”

Roscoe immediately pushes herself up from her sprawl across the backseat and leans her head over Natasha’s right shoulder.

“Good girl,” Natasha says, fondly. She pats the side of Roscoe’s head turns a bit in her seat. “Stay,” she commands.

Natasha grins when Roscoe promptly sits back, alert and awaiting her next command.

“Good girl,” she repeats, opening the driver’s side door and slipping out of the car.

Roscoe stays seated, watching Natasha as she lifts the lever on the driver’s seat and tilts it forward.

“Come,” Natasha waves another command, and squats low just outside the car door

Roscoe rises and exits the car, tail swishing when she sits beside Natasha for her reward.

“You’re a fast learner,” Natasha laughs.

Roscoe quickly gobbles up the treat Natasha offers and sniffs the ground in search of any possible crumbs. Satisfied she’s found everything, Roscoe looks up expectantly at Natasha as she grabs her bag from the seat and slings it over her shoulder.

“Come,” Natasha says again, nudging the car door shut with a swing of her hip. They pause briefly for Natasha to unlock the front door, then head to the kitchen where Roscoe walks to her bowl and sits down beside it.

“Oh, I guess that means it’s dinner time,” Natasha observes with a small grin.

Roscoe tilts her head at the word “dinner,” and shuffles her paws in excitement while Natasha scoops out the dog food and pours it into her bowl.

Natasha leaves Roscoe happily chowing down on her kibble and heads into her bedroom. She changes into sweatpants and a tank top and pads back into the living room, laying down on the sofa with her phone to scroll through the day’s photos.

Roscoe paws tap against the tiles as she approaches, having scarfed down her food in near record time. She pauses at the foot of the sofa and stares up at Natasha for a few seconds. Natasha automatically lifts her legs right when Roscoe leaps up onto the cushion beside her.

“These came out well,” Natasha says.

She taps through the photos, opening one and turning the phone toward Roscoe. Roscoe leans in for a quick sniff, then backs away with disinterest and begins the ritual of finding the position that will allow her to become one with Natasha as quickly as possible.

“Well,” Natasha mutters, “ _I_  think you’re photogenic.” She sighs, leaning her legs against the back of the sofa when Roscoe finally settles. “Which dad do you get that from, huh?”

Roscoe huffs loudly and inches slightly closer while Natasha continues to examine the photos. After a little while, Roscoe yawns, makes a soft grumbling noise, and rolls over onto her back, letting her hind legs flop wide open.

Natasha lowers the phone and glances at Roscoe for a moment. “You definitely get that from Barnes.”

\---

“Stark’s got the package,” Steve pants into his headpiece. “No word on the data until he’s able to have JARVIS extract it. He and Wilson are en route to the rendezvous.”

“Roger that,” Clint says and then chuckles.

“What’s funny?” Steve asks, grunting as he takes out another HYDRA agent.

“He was gonna say ‘Roger Rogers,’” Bucky grits out, catching a swinging fist in his left hand and twisting. “Bet you anything.”

Steve rolls his eyes, moving steadily toward the exit. “Really, Barton?”

“C’mon, it’s funny! Haven’t you guys seen  _Airplane!_  yet?”

Bucky drops the last two agents and catches up with Steve.

Steve gives him a once over that Bucky immediately scoffs at.

“I’m fine,” Bucky holds his arms out to both sides. “Not even a scratch, see?”

“I see a scratch,” Steve says, pointing to a bright red spot in the soon to bruise patch on Bucky’s cheek.

“Wise ass.”

“You guys are just sickening,” Tony’s voice chimes in over the comms. “And did I hear correctly? You’ve never seen—”

“All right, boys, playtime’s over,” Hill’s voice interrupts. “Cap, Barnes, what’s your ETA?”

“Depends what’s on the other side of this door,” Bucky replies.

“We pretty much cleared the playing field on our way out,” Sam says. “You guys should be all good, minus a few strays here and there if they stuck around.”

“We can be there—”

“No, don’t bring the jet here,” Steve says quickly. “We got what we needed. It’s safer out of harms way. We’ll be fine.”

The comms are silent for a second before Hill speaks again. “Okay. The SUV is waiting back by the entry point. Radio when you’re on your way.”

“Will do,” Bucky says.

Steve lifts an eyebrow. Bucky nods, takes a deep breath and steps back as Steve throws the door open.

They encounter a few stragglers on the way to the truck, dispatching them without much effort. By the time Steve’s got his foot on the gas, they’re both feeling battle worn, bruised, and exhausted. Steve tosses his helmet into the back and scrubs a hand through his hair. Bucky yanks down the zipper of his jacket, sighs and lets his head loll against the seat rest.

“I want a cheeseburger,” Bucky mumbles after a few minutes of silence.

Steve steals at glance at Bucky, who’s now slumped down with his eyes closed and his chin tucked against his chest.

“Are you even awake?” Steve asks.

“Quarterpounder with cheese. Supersize me,” Bucky grunts. “Don’t forget the sweet and sour sauce for my fries. Y’always forget.”

“Do not,” Steve mutters.

They lapse back into silence, but for Bucky’s soft snoring. Steve keeps his eyes on the road, taking quick glances down open alleyways in case anything remains of the HYDRA outfit. They seem to have wisely fled the scene.

“Sirs,” the placid voice of JARVIS cuts into the quiet.

Bucky shoots upright, snorting loudly and pulling at his seatbelt. Steve bites the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking while Bucky frowns at the road.

“What was that?” he mumbles.

“My apologies, Sergeant Barnes,” JARVIS offers. “Agent Hill has asked me to confirm that you and Captain Rogers are safely en route to the quinjet.”

“We are, JARVIS,” Steve replies. “Please tell Agent Hill I’m sorry I didn’t check in. Our ETA is ten minutes.”

“Will do, Captain.”

“Thank you, JARVIS.”

Bucky drags his hands over his face, then undoes his seatbelt, lifts his hips and digs his phone out of the front of his pants.

“Jesus, was that in there the whole time?” Steve asks.

“No,” Bucky deadpans. “I summoned it magically with the power of my dick.”

“Among its many talents,” Steve retorts.

Bucky shoots him a wicked grin. “I sewed pockets on the inside.”

“That’s…” Steve frowns, “Handy. I could use one of those.”

“Steve, your uniform is a onesie.”

“First of all, it’s not a onesie, it—”

Bucky stares at him, both brows raised.

Steve sighs. “You got any candy in there?”

Bucky lifts his hips, digging into his pants again, and tosses a tiny bag of gummy bears into Steve’s lap.

“You’re kidding.”

Bucky shrugs, “Eat your candy.”

“What else do you keep in there?” Steve laughs. He brings the bag up and tears it open with his teeth. “You want some?”

“No, you have ‘em. And don’t worry, you can do a thorough inspection of my pants and surrounding areas when we get home,” Bucky grins, tapping through messages on his phone.

Steve snorts and tumbles the entire contents of the bag into his mouth, his cheeks plumping out as he chews.

Bucky looks up and cackles, then quickly snaps a few photos before Steve manages to gulp everything down.

“Asshole,” Steve mutters as he turns off the main road and navigates into the field where the jet is waiting.

“Chipmunk is a good look on you,” Bucky grins.

Steve chuckles, shaking his head.

“Jesus,” Bucky snorts.

“What now?” Steve asks, pulling off to the side of the jet and putting the SUV into park.

Bucky hands his phone over to Steve. “I’m starting to wonder if she hired out a film crew at this point.”

Steve’s mouth drops open as he swipes through the photos Natasha had sent while they’d been out of contact.

“Is the dog wearing—”

“Your underwear?” Bucky asks, taking his phone back. “Yeah, pretty sure she is. My t-shirt though.”

“Has Natasha answered anything with actual words?”

Bucky scrolls through the messages, “Well, she did say that she replaced all underwear that was harmed during the making of these photos.”

“Oh, well that’s nice,” Steve says, as they each swing their car doors open.

Bucky grins, sliding out of his seat and throwing the door shut behind him. They gather their gear from the back of the SUV and board the quinjet.

Tony sidles over to where Steve and Bucky are unloading their gear and changing into plain clothes.

“You two stop to fu—”

“NOPE!” Hill’s voice rings out from somewhere nearby.

“FUCK UP SOME HYDRA SCUM,” Tony yells out. “Is… of course, what I was going to say.”

“JARVIS get any results from the data yet?” Steve asks.

“Some,” Tony nods. “Hits on a few compounds we hadn’t located yet. Most will probably be swept clean before we get to them now, but we might get to one or two if we move quickly. There’s still a lot to sort through. JARVIS is compiling and routing it back to Banner simultaneously.”

“Hopefully he’ll have something for us when we get back,” Bucky says, loudly clapping his left hand against Tony’s arm as he slips past him.

“Oww, Jesus,” Tony complains. “Would it kill you to use the right hand just once?”

Bucky throws a quick wink over his shoulder, then heads toward the front of the jet. “Hey Barton, how much would I need to pay you to make a pit-stop at McDonald’s?”

\---

“Mmmmph,” Bucky groans, sucking his finger into his mouth. “Oh God,” he moans, lips smacking as moves onto the next finger. “So good.”

“Christ,” Steve mutters, shifting uncomfortably in the driver’s seat.

“S’your own fault,” Bucky says around a mouthful of cheeseburger. “Asked you if you wanted more than one.”

“It’s not that,” Steve complains. “Are you eating that or fucking it?”

Bucky snorts, dropping his eyes down to Steve’s lap, “Almost home, champ, then I’ll do to you what I’m doing to this Quarterpounder.”

Steve frowns, “I think we may need to revisit that thing about food and our sex life.”

Bucky grins and sucks two fingers back into his mouth.

\---

It’s close to midnight by the time they turn onto Natasha’s quiet street. Steve pulls into the driveway and kills the engine, then reaches over to Bucky’s lap to steal the last of the french fries.

“They’re cold,” he grumbles.

Bucky stretches his arms up over his head, arching his back, “Can stop for more on the way back home.”

Steve nods and pokes at Bucky’s exposed bellybutton.

Bucky laughs, curling forward and grabbing Steve’s hand, “A’right. I gotta stand up.”

They climb out of the car, taking time to stretch their tired limbs. Bucky brushes the crumbs from his clothes and collects the food wrappers, tossing them into the trash at the end of Natasha’s driveway.

They head for the front stoop, but before Bucky can hit the buzzer, Natasha opens the door to greet them. She looks relaxed in sweatpants and a tank top, her hair pulled up into a messy bun atop her head. She raises an eyebrow at their bruised, exhausted faces.

“Someone oughta teach you boys some stealth,” she says with a slight quirk of her lips.

“You’re looking better, at least,” Steve says, leaning in to kiss Natasha’s cheek.

“Please,” she huffs, as Bucky also plants a kiss on her cheek. “I was fine the next day.”

“Well, I’m still glad you got some downtime.”

“Me, too,” Bucky says. “You really didn’t miss much, anyway.”

Natasha gives them each a careful look, “I find that hard to believe.”

“Hey girl,” Bucky grins, squatting down as Roscoe pads up beside Natasha, tail swooshing madly at the site of him.

Bucky opens his arms, expecting Roscoe to leap at him, but she sits down politely at Natasha’s side and waits, tail still wagging back and forth. She tilts her head up at to look at Natasha and then toward Bucky and Steve and back again several times.

“C’mere, Roscoe,” Bucky prompts, patting his knees.

Roscoe continues to sit still by Natasha’s side, looking up at her and back to Steve and Bucky over and over again.

"What did you do to our dog?" Bucky asks.

“We have an understanding,” Natasha replies with a smirk.

Bucky frowns, looking at Roscoe again and patting his thigh, but the dog doesn’t budge.

“Seriously, Nat, what did you do?” Steve asks, trying not to sound concerned and failing.

"I trained her," Natasha replies, somewhat defensively.

"To do what?" Bucky counters.

"To be  _obedient_.”

Steve and Bucky eye each other warily. Natasha rolls her eyes and throws up her hands. She squats down beside the dog and extends her right hand.

“Roscoe, paw,” she commands.

Roscoe immediately lifts her right paw and flails it into Natasha’s open palm.

“Good girl,” Natasha coos, shaking Roscoe’s paw gently. She digs into the pocket of her sweatpants and pulls out a small bag of kibble, offering two pieces to Roscoe as a reward.

“Did you know that some dogs are capable of learning up to 165 words?"

"How many did you teach her?" Steve asks.

Natasha shrugs. "I had five days off and wasn't allowed to work, what else was I gonna do?"

She holds out her left hand. “Other paw.”

Roscoe quickly shifts, lifting her left paw and earning two more bits of kibble.

“They can get hurt,” Natasha says, burying her fingers in the scruff at Roscoe’s neck. She scratches until Roscoe tilts her head back happily.

“If they run out the door when they’re over excited or just…” Natasha shrugs. “They don’t know, so. Now she knows.”

“Good girl,” she says again, patting Roscoe’s head before rising to her feet.

Roscoe ducks her head, shifting her paws impatiently at the threshold of the doorway. She looks up at Natasha, over to Bucky, and back again.

Natasha looks down and waves her hand forward. "Go."

Roscoe leaps from the doorway up into Bucky's arms.

Bucky just manages to brace himself in time to catch her weight as she squeals high pitched noises and lathers his face with kisses.

Steve laughs, wrapping an arm around them both and planting a few kisses on Roscoe’s head before stepping over toward Natasha with a fond smile.

“Shut up,” she says, immediately.

“I didn’t say a word,” Steve grins.

“I can see it in your sappy gaze, Rogers.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr](http://sheisraging.tumblr.com) and be amazed at how many photos of Chris Evans I can reblog in one week!


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